


Connected Till The End

by veiledndarkness



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-03
Updated: 2012-05-03
Packaged: 2017-11-04 18:03:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/396668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veiledndarkness/pseuds/veiledndarkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've shared this connection for as long as he can remember. Written for the twd_kinkmeme on Livejournal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Connected Till The End

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: _Merle/Daryl - Bonds (telepathic or empathic; psychic links; mating or soul bonds)_

Part 1

It used to bother him, always bein’ able to feel Merle this way. 

They’ve had this bond, this link or connection or whatever it’s called as long as he can remember an’ when Merle’s holdin’ him like this, he thinks it’s as close to Heaven that either of them will ever get. 

He’s underneath him, pinned down by nothin’ more than one of Merle’s hands holdin’ his wrists, an’ his face is pressed to Merle’s neck, breathin’ him in. He can _feel_ it, feel the connection hummin’ away and he exhales a soft breath, shudderin’ happily right then. 

Merle’s deep inside a’ him, not movin’, jus’ fillin’ him full, an’ all his toes are tingling. 

The bond is strong, strong enough that Daryl can feel each an’ every emotion that runs through Merle. He can pick them apart, one by one, but the one that’s leavin’ him feelin’ like he’s spinnin’ or fallin’, that’s the best one. 

His brother’s love, love and possessiveness for him runs deeper than the other feelings, past the anger an’ bitterness at life, the rage and fury he feels at their lot in life and he wants to voice his protests, tell Merle it ain’t all that bad, how could anythin’ be all that bad when he has him like this?

He closes his eyes, listenin’ to the filthy words that Merle’s croonin’ in his ear an’ right as he feels his brother begin to move inside him, he focuses on sendin’ back that feeling, that perfect warm feelin’ that makes his chest flutter in the best damn way. 

He doesn’t mind always knowin’ what Merle is feelin’, not if this is how he centers his brother. He rubs his face against Merle’s neck an’ Merle rumbles above him in pleasure and the link between them is all Daryl can think of as warmth pushes through them.

 

Part 2

 

He can tell that they’re just humouring him, goin’ on this ‘trip’ with him.

That fucking cop is just doin’ this to clear his conscience an’ as far as Daryl’s concerned, he can choke on it, cause this _is_ his fault, his fault no matter what Merle did or didn’t do.

He’s no fool, he’s knows his brother ain’t one for playin’ along with other people, but other people don’t know him like he does, they don’t know what kind of person Merle really is under all that bluster an’ shitty attitude. 

He wasn’t always this way but life has a way of hardenin’ a person.

And so he’s shouting an’ stompin’ on the horn in the truck, madder than a wet cat. He can’t control himself ‘cause it’s not just him anymore. He’s pacin’ and his hands are shakin’ and he can’t, _can’t_ calm down, not when he can feel every emotion runnin’ through his brother.

The fear is gaggin’ him and he grips his crossbow, glarin’ daggers into T-Dog, hatin’ the man with every fibre of his body. He hates him more than he hates the cop, and so what if part of the hatred comes from Merle? 

He’s clamped his mouth shut on the ride back to Atlanta, willin’ his own mind to calm, to reassure Merle silently that it’s gonna be ok, but it ain’t easy, not when Merle’s panic an’ fear are drownin’ the connection they share, not when his rage is floodin’ Daryl, his absolute fury at bein’ abandoned, left for dead. 

They’ve had this…thing…for as long as Daryl can remember.

He has a faint memory of their Ma tellin’ him that he used to cry somethin’ awful ‘till Merle would come sit by him an’ rock his little cradle, tellin’ him in that way of his that everythin’ was ok, no need to cry. 

And he remembers always knowin’ what Merle was really feelin’, even when he was actin’ mad. He doesn’t know what it’s like to not feel what his brother feels, not know what he’s thinkin’.

He hates his brother sometimes, but his love for him is as fierce as can be an’ he can’t remember a time when he wasn’t connected to his brother, when he couldn’t feel that warm sensation that he knows is love. 

Daryl feels everythin’ through their bond, an’ right now, Merle’s screamin’ into the sky and beyond his rage, beyond his own fear is a rush of _worry_ for Daryl, that warm feelin’ that helps him focus is comin’ in jagged spikes an’ it makes him want to scream back to hold on, jus’ fuckin’ hold on. 

He doesn’t remember when his love, his need for Merle turned the way it did, but he knows what he feels an’ the thought of livin’ without it turns him cold inside. To not have this connection, to not _feel_ Merle inside his head, inside his mind, to not feel the warmth blanket him when Merle pulls him close, pressin’ against him an’ whisperin’ the best filthy things in his ear, those hands of his touchin’ him in the right places an’ all the while, he can _feel_ everythin’ Merle isn’t sayin’ to him. 

He wants to stay in those moments, but he can feel a sudden rip of pain shudderin’ through him an’ it’s blind panic leadin’ him into the building and all he can do is try an’ send back that reassurance that he’s comin’, just hang on, hang on…

He blinks away the burn of tears an’ focuses on runnin’ up those stairs to the roof as fast as his legs will carry him. He can’t feel any acknowledgement, can’t feel anythin’ over agonizin’ pain vibratin’ through their bond.

And when he bursts through the chained door an’ screams his brother’s name, and even when he’s screamin’ and ragin’ at the men with him, he has a moment to think of how quiet it is now, inside his head.


End file.
